


Look At Me

by Rosegolden394



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Severus Snape - Freeform, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 08:20:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12860562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosegolden394/pseuds/Rosegolden394





	Look At Me

I only want him to look at me.

I don't think my eyes have left his face for one second since I walked into the classroom... hoping to catch his gaze and the split second rush that comes with it. When our eyes lock even for the tiniest moment, my mouth goes dry, my body is held in place as if awaiting further instruction and the sound of my heart pumping it's blood beats in my ears.

And then too soon it's gone. His dark eyes quickly shift to something else, and he glides away from me. I'm left grasping my desktop and exhaling slowly to steady my breath without any of the students noticing.

There's just something about his stare that commands mental obedience. When I've got that eye contact, I swear to Merlin then and there that I'll do anything in the world if he will just keep looking at me. Look me right in the eyes with that resolute intention he is never without.

There is no way he isn't purposefully showing it to me. He knows that I'm watching him, waiting for it. Knows it affects me. And strangely, I don't care. I'm not embarrassed or giggly or playing coy or batting my lashes, I'm only staring back. Wordlessly telling him that I see him, that I won't be one to fold to intimidation, that he doesn't scare me… even though he does, a little.

He's talking about Libatius Borage now. Briefly explaining the famous potioneer's accomplishments and then delving into his 'many weaknesses and mistakes'. He's the only teacher who will take apart -piece by piece- not only the material of your course book, but the author of the book itself. Throwing the tedious walls of text into the air and then laying it all back out in a more organized, comprehensible way.

The girl sitting next to me is raising her hand, and thank the Gods, he's looking this way.

"A question, Miss Stronach?" 

I'm not listening to what she's asking, I'm looking right at him and sitting up a little straighter willing him to look at me as he approaches. It's like torture that he isn't... only sneering at the girl as she rambles on.

He's standing in front of our desk now, mere feet from me. I'm having to look up at him a bit, my chest beginning to rise and fall a bit faster under my blouse. He's answering her as if he's terribly annoyed that he's being forced to speak to a student at all. I'm staring right at his face, but haven't heard a word he's said.

And then, contact. His eyes are on me. And I am taken.

"Don't you think so, Miss Simons? Yes, credit should be given where it is due. But if noticed that it's been given where none is deserved, it should be immediately and publicly contested?"

I feel my magic buzzing in my core and my cheeks flush hot with that sweet adrenaline I've come to savor so much.

Breathe. Relax. The entire class is watching. I haven't the faintest idea to the context of the question but I seem to be putting my own meaning to it anyway.

"I feel it's much more important to make sure someone is praised for their merit than it is to set out to disprove their worthiness. Even the most suspect of people usually have at least a few hidden virtues, deserving of acknowledgement."

Don't break eye contact, please. I'm not ready for it to be gone.

An eyebrow very slightly raises, but he doesn't say anything else. He holds my eyes for another beautiful second, and then he turns away. Instructing the class to the page number on which to start our reading.

The girl next to me is looking at me strangely. I need to compose myself but I have been waiting all week for that and I'm right in the middle of feeling it's effects. I close my eyes and replay it in my mind, hoping I don't have to wait another 5 days. My imagination is taking over now and I'm envisioning him doing much more than staring and I can feel myself start to lose composure right here in my seat.

But I need to wait. I need to wait until the day is done and I can be alone. Alone with my curtained bed, alone with my own fingers, alone with this new memory of his eyes on me, deliciously fresh in my mind.


End file.
